


Alternative Therapy

by kapakoscheisigma



Category: Doctor Who: Virgin New Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-24
Updated: 2012-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:45:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kapakoscheisigma/pseuds/kapakoscheisigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set immediately after the end of the book Bad Therapy.</p><p>This piece leads up to the first time but doesn't go all the way, as it were!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternative Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Rights belong variously to the BBC and Virgin publishing

Chris stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, vigorously rubbing at his hair before he noticed a shape in his bed through the open door. Wrapping the towel around his waist he strode purposefully into his bedroom.

Obviously, he told himself later, he’d known who he’d find. No-one could breach the security of the TARDIS. Besides, even if they could, why would they climb into his bed? But at the time, he was half-afraid it was a ghost, or worse, a hallucination. But the figure in his bed wasn’t Roz - smaller, milk-white to her bitter chocolate.

The still, small part of Chris that was still rational, still in control, knew that this was no ghost or hallucination caused by maudlin self-pity, was spitting angry. He half-suspected to see Patsy in his bed, believing the Doctor capable of inviting the Toy into the TARDIS to please his companion. Despite Chris’ obvious disgust and upset, and the Doctor’s final moral decision to ignore ‘Mother’s’ wishes, Chris sometimes wondered if human feelings were simply beyond the Doctor’s comprehension.

Expecting to find his brief lover, his self-created Roz substitute, Chris stopped in his tracks with shock. He had been prepared to be coldly polite before throwing her out and then finding the Doctor to give him a piece of his mind.

He didn’t need to find the Doctor. He was right there.

The Doctor hurriedly dropped the book he’d been reading and turned to face the bathroom door and Chris. He worriedly fluffed up his hair, coyly pulling it forward in an attempt to cover his face. Suddenly shy, he pulled up the sheets. He wanted to smile but Chris looked so angry. He hadn’t expected that.

Chris stared at the Doctor, angry and confused, growing more so by the minute at his own impossible to hide physical response. What the frag was the Doctor doing in his bed, naked? What kind of manipulative game was this? 

The Doctor’s clear blue eyes sort out Chris’, imploring. “Christopher?” he whispered uncertainly.

“What the fragging hell is going on?” Chris hadn’t meant to shout.

The Doctor flinched. “Um?” He chewed at his bottom lip. This was not going entirely to plan. “I - I thought to... console you, to... I’m sorry Chris.” He stumbled out of the bed, desperate to keep the sheet wrapped about him, ashamed of his assumptions. The bunched sheet tangled at his feet as he tried to snatch up his clothes, and he tripped. As he fell he dropped both bundle of clothing and sheet. A miserable, pathetic “cruk!” escaped as he sprawled ungainly on Chris’ bedroom floor, naked and tangled, heavily banging his arm.

“You swore!” Chris felt laughter welling up from somewhere, anger evaporating. How could he be angry with the small, vulnerable figure angrily kicking at the sheet wrapped around his legs while trying to cover his modesty. Definitely a hundred percent human to look at, decided Chris, taking in every smooth, white, lithe detail with leisure.

“No! No I didn’t! Well, maybe... Forgive me Chris. I made a mistake. I’m so sorry.” He was his feet again, naked with his clothes clutched possessively to him, his hat back on his head.

“Doctor?”

The Doctor froze. He’d been backing away to the door, fearful blue eyes never leaving Chris’, behaving as if Chris was aiming a blaster at his head.

“Yes?” he whispered nervously.

Chris bounded across the bed to stand in front of him, dropping his towel in the process, no longer even having the pretence of hiding his response. It was obviously the response the Doctor had expected. Wasn’t it? Who knew what went on in the little Time Lord’s mind?

“What mistake?” demanded Chris gently.

“I -?”

“You don’t want these.” Chris snatched the bundle and flung them to the floor, the Doctor’s clothes mingling with his own both clean and dirty, as well as those somewhere in between.

“Chris, I -?”

“Nor this.”

Chris gently pushed off the Doctor’s hat, stroking his hair, then neck, shoulder, exploring tentatively. Carefully, slowly, oh so gently pulling him into an embrace, feeling the soft warm skin next to his, the sigh of hot breath in his shoulder blade, the surprise of a reaction against his thigh. The Doctor nuzzled against his chest and shoulder, almost purring and then suddenly wrapped his arms about him, as if afraid he might disappear. 

Chris stroked his hair again, looking down at the top of his head. He couldn’t help but run his other hand gently down the Doctor’s spine, checking any further impulses once he got past coccyx.

“Doctor?”

“Mm?” A kiss on Chris’ collar bone.

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hm.” A tongue flicked over his nipple.

“But...” Chris almost gasped. He took a deep breath. “Have you -?”

A definite chuckle. “Oh yes” Lips and tongue traced across Chris’ firm chest, from one nipple to the other, as finger-tips pressed into the muscles under his shoulder blades.

“How far... Oh Goddess! Don’t!” Chris grabbed the Doctor’s face, making him look up. “How far do you want us - me - I mean -?”

The Doctor stood on tiptoe and arched his back, pressing himself against Chris’ taut bulk. Instinctively Chris released his face to put his arms around the Doctor’s waist again. The Doctor twisted his fingers in Chris’ hair, other hand firmly around the back of Chris’ neck, pulling his head down. Gazing up with wide blue eyes he smiled lavisciously.

“All the way Christopher,” he replied in all seriousness. He pulled Chris’ face closer and stretched up, kissing him deeply.

Without thinking Chris kissed back with passion, flicking his tongue across the Doctor’s, pushing it in deep, exploring crooked teeth... Suddenly Chris realised this was the Doctor! Horrified and ashamed, he pulled away and stared at the naked Time Lord standing before him in his bedroom. 

“Is this just to placate me? Keep me happy? 101 ways to stop a companion leaving?”

“How could you -?”

But Chris cut off the Doctor’s anguished cry. “Because Time Lords don’t do this, do they? I don’t need ‘consoling’, thank you very much. You needn’t demean yourself.”

“Don’t do -? Demean!” The Doctor exploded with fury, almost spitting out his gabbled words. “Didn’t you ever listen to Benny? Roz? Ace - I mean Dorothee? I’m a ‘whore’! A ‘tart’! Don’t do - this!? I’m a - I’m -”

He was silenced by Chris’ grabbing his arms and pulling him up to kiss him violently, bruising lips.

“No,” said Chris when they finally pulled apart. “No-one told me because they all knew damn well I fancy you, for cruk’s sake! You should have told me yourself! And don’t call yourself a whore. What do you want money for?”

The Doctor smiled, wondering what to reply to. “I thought you knew,” he mumbled. “And money isn’t quite what Ace ever meant.”

“She’s one to talk,” Chris snapped, wondering yet again at the strange love/hate relationship between Dorothee and the Doctor. He looked down at the Doctor, smiling up at him, no longer with just lust but love. Goddess help me! he thought. What do I do now?

“You don’t need to - to... I don't need sex, you know. I’m not going to leave you Doctor, don’t be frightened by that. I’ll never leave you! Besides...”

The Doctor looked away. “I’ve always wanted you,” he muttered in rare honesty. “I never wanted to tread on Roz’s territory.” He looked up again, his blue eyes pools of vulnerability. “I miss Roz, she was my friend too. If it’s too soon, I -”

Chris kissed him gently, and thinking wryly of Patsy said, “Obviously it isn’t. If you’re sure? Goddess Doctor, do you want me to - to -?”

“How to put it? In your century’s vernacular, shampoo me?” supplied the Doctor, beaming happily. “Yes I do! Why do you think I’m here?”

Chris swallowed, then caressed the Doctor’s face with his finger tips.

“If you’re sure?”

“I am.” He beamed again at Chris.

“Just checking.” Chris smiled back then pulled the Doctor towards his bed.


End file.
